


Winter

by Tabitha Craft (Tabithacraft)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Architect Clarke, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Clarke Griffin/Lexa-centric, Cute Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, Fluff, Holidays, Modern Setting Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Romantic Fluff, Weird Christmas traditions, clexa festive, doctor Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithacraft/pseuds/Tabitha%20Craft
Summary: Clarke and Lexa decorate for the holidays. Or rather Clarke desperately wants Lexa to get festive and Lexa doesn't want to. Until she does. One shot. Holiday fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My osom girlfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+osom+girlfriend).



> I've not written for a while because life has been tough, is still really tough. But it's good for me, and I met this girl who's making me manage things a whole lot better even though they are what they are:)
> 
> This is light, festive and fun and based on a tumblr prompt from anonymous:)

Clarke glared at Lexa who was sitting on the couch with her nose in some ridiculous Danielle Steel book, completely oblivious to Clarke's attempts to let her know just how irritated she was. When Lexa turned the page, a captivated look on her perfect face, Clarke huffed loudly. Lexa's brow furrowed just slightly, but she continued to read, the epitome of serenity. 

"I said, 'humph,'" Clarke muttered grumpily. Lexa blinked twice and took in Clarke's grumpy expression before setting her book down on the armrest with her bookmark carefully in place. 

"Why?" she asked. 

"You're just sitting there instead of helping," Clarke waggled the tangled set of holiday lights in the air and gestured to the bare and rather pathetic looking artificial pine tree in the corner. 

"Clarke, when you said that it was time we got Christmasy, I carefully corrected the statement to 'it's time _you_ get Christmassy.' I don't do Christmas. I said that when you rented me the room last January."

"Yeah yeah, I remember, Miss I-don't-do-holidays."

"I have not the slightest interest in decorating for a holiday that celebrates something I don't believe in. And even if you take the religious aspect out, it's still entirely commercial, unnecessary, and usually vaguely depressing. And why do we all have to celebrate on this one dictated day which makes everything cost four times as much and adds tons of pressure?"

"Okay, Miss _Scrooge_ ," Clarke rolled her eyes-- apparently she name-called when frustrated. "You don't do festive, I get it."

"It's all about what you're going to give, what you're going to get, finding the perfect gift for someone that will then have to stress about finding the perfect gift for you, and why? Because Christ was born on this day? I'm an atheist and even if I wasn't, I doubt they know for sure it was this day, and even if it was, is this how we need to celebrate that? And really, is it even about that anymore for most people?"

"For some people," Clarke shrugged.

"For you?" Lexa fixed those green eyes of hers on Clarke who felt a surge of embarrassment for no good reason.

"Well no," she admitted. "I just like the tradition."

"Of putting up some fake tree and hanging tacky plastic ornaments from it? Of getting way too drunk and spending money you don't have on gifts for people who'll give you crap in return? You want to celebrate because everyone else is? It's just a day, Clarke," Lexa made the consonants rebound around the room, the way she always did and Clarke deflated.

"You're right I guess," put out, she threw down the tangled lights and curled up on the couch next to Lexa, who pulled her book off the edge of the couch and flicked to her bookmarked page, all with a vaguely smug look on her face. "Why do you read this crap anyway?" Clarke poutily asked as she leaned her head on Lexa's bony shoulder.

"It's an easy read."

"But you're gay," Clarke tapped the page and Lexa tsked in irritation.

"So?" Lexa didn't even look up and for a moment Clarke watched her eyes run back and forth over lines.

"Well, do you really want to read a hetero romance?"

"Romance is romance," Lexa shrugged.

"Terrible writing is terrible writing," Clarke mocked but felt Lexa stiffen and watched her roommate reinsert her bookmark and carefully place her book on the side table, before she put some space between them and turned to look at Clarke.

"Danielle Steel earned thirty five million dollars in 2010 and between ten and twenty-six million dollars a year since. She's sold 650 million books, Clarke. So please tell me what makes her writing terrible?"

"The storyline?" Clarke grinned cheesily, unfazed by a warring Lexa after nearly a year of cohabitation.

"I beg to differ. What makes a book a good book? Is it readable? Yes. Do lots of people agree that it's worth reading? Yes. Is it addictive? Yes. How is that terrible storytelling?"

"Well, it's written badly."

"Because it's not Shakespeare? Or Chaucer? It's not Vonnegut or Dickens? Because it's different from the classics? You snob!"

"So you don't need to have a firm grasp of the English language to be a good storyteller?" Clarke arched her eyebrows.

"No! You have to be a good storyteller to be a good storyteller. And Ms. Steel is one of the best. If I enjoy it, I'll read it. You would probably read a lot more if you did the same."

"I don't have time to read," Clarke sidled close to Lexa again and the girl crumbled allowing Clarke's head to once more rest on her shoulder.

"You're an architect, not a brain surgeon."

"An architect with very particular clients."

"You apparently have time to decorate that forlorn lil beast over there," Lexa gestured to the miserable looking tree.

"It would be less forlorn with decorations," Clarke nuzzled Lexa's neck, an act that was far more intimate than she expected it to be when she was overwhelmed by the smell of her roommate. "Hmm, you smell good," she addressed her indiscretion head on.

"Unlike some people, I believe in showering."

"Lexa, I shower!" Clarke protested indignantly, her cheeks burning. 

"Sometimes," Lexa smirked and her nose wrinkled. 

"Ugh, I hate you," Clarke lied, wishing she could kiss the girl to shut her up sometimes.

"Sure," Lexa was unperturbed. 

"It was one time when I woke up late."

"One time?" Lexa scoffed. 

"Fine, it was several times when I woke up late."

"You work too hard," Lexa softened and reached forward to retrieve Clarke's sketchpad from the table. "You haven't drawn in months. All work and no play makes Clarke a dull girl."

"I am not the one sitting around on the couch on a Saturday night reading Danielle Steel."

"No, you're the one suggesting we bow down to the commercialism and societal group pressure and unnecessarily clutter our space with ornaments and vestiges of festivity."

"Lexa, I love Christmas!"

"Croosmoose," Lexa echoed and Clarke giggled. 

"What the fuck was that?"

"My little brother was a terrible speller. He sent us all Croosemoose cards one year."

"You have a little brother?"

"I _had_ a little brother," Lexa shrugged, and turned her head to stare at the tree. 

"Oh," Clarke felt her face visibly fall as she gaped her her friend. This girl who'd fallen into her life after Raven decided to travel the world and Clarke had posted a drunken ad on craigslist. She was convinced Lexa had to have been a weirdo to even respond to the indignant message and Lexa was a weirdo, but she was _her_ weirdo. "What happened?" Clarke asked and realized at once that it was the wrong thing to say when Lexa visibly paled and shook her head.

"Are you gonna do the tree then?"

"Are you going to help?" Clarke fluttered her eyelashes in her best effort to look appealing. She knew Lexa loved her eyes, or her face-- she stared at it often enough, but this time the puppy dog look had no impact. 

"I'm going to shower," Lexa smiled and stood, her hand landing on Clarke's knee as she pushed herself up. Clarke felt her stomach jump but she ignored it. It happened so consistently around Lexa these days that she barely noticed it anymore. She was sexually attracted to her roommate. She was fairly certain her roommate was sexually attracted to her. She'd toyed with the idea of a drunken night to release Lexa from her system, so to speak, but she had a rather loud whisper in the back of her mind that there was a little more than sexual attraction to it and so she resisted. Whether Lexa resisted for the same reason or because Clarke had merely dreamed up the girl's attraction to her, Clarke didn't know. The result was the same. They had this tension between them-- this palpable, crazy tension that turned every conversation flirtatious. Well, turned everything _Clarke_ said and did flirtatious, if she were honest. Lexa was really just platonic. Painfully platonic. Clarke huffed and headed for the kitchen.

***

Lexa was bending low over the table as she examined the miniature pie that was sitting on a plate with several of its brothers and sisters. She sniffed it and her brow furrowed at the perfect star on top.

"What kind of pie is it?" she asked at last, looking up at Clarke with an adorably confused expression.

"A mince pie. How can you not know that?"

"Because I've never heard of such a thing."

"They're seasonal!"

"No shit, Sherlock! And you made these while I showered?" Lexa bent once more to examine it. "I mean it's perfect." Clarke puffed out at the praise.

"Well, I made the pastry yesterday so I just had to roll it, cut it, put in the mincemeat and bake them."

"The what?" Lexa looked up horrified.

"Huh?" Clarke's brow furrowed.

"Mincemeat? This pie has minced meat in it? With currents and dried fruit? That sounds...well, it doesn't sound good." 

"Aw Lex, you're so cute," Clarke cuddled her and loved how she flushed. "It doesn't have actual meat in it. It's dried fruit and spices and traditionally, suet."

"Suet is meat Clarke," she was shaking her head now. "It's beautiful. It really is, but I can't eat it."

"I made sure the jar that I got was vegetarian. You can eat it. I promise."

"Why on earth is it called mincemeat? If theres no minced meat in it?" Lexa wondered, not yet taking a pie from the plate, despite the fact that Clarke had just shoved one whole into her mouth.

"I dunno," she mumbled around the pie, aware that small flakes of pastry had escaped her mouth when she spoke, and that Lexa would never even drunkenly hook up with her at this rate. 

"Let me look it up," Lexa grabbed her phone and punched at it with her finger. "Okay...'The early mince pie was known by several names, including "mutton pie, "shrid pie" and "Christmas pie". Typically its ingredients were a mixture of minced meat, suet, a range of fruits, and spices such as cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg.' It changed to just fruits -- probably when they realized the meat version is gross."

"Maybe?"

"Actually... no, the Victorians just stopped using it. And wow-- this little pie thing dates back to the 13th century. Huh," Lexa slid her phone back into her pocket and leaned over to once more sniff the pie. 

"Eat one," Clarke goaded. 

"These aren't tradition here you know? Not for everyone." Lexa fixed large green eyes on Clarke, and Clarke stared at the utter perfection before her, sucking in a breath because fuck. Except she sucked in a piece of pastry and rather glamorously began to choke. "Clarke!" Lexa began to pat her back as she coughed and hacked, her eyes streaming and her face undoubtably red. 

"Sorry," she spluttered.

"Apparently these lil things are dangerous," Lexa joked, palm still smoothing distractingly over Clarke's back. 

"Ea...t...o.....n...e..." Clarke coughed out and Lexa laughed, always a beautiful sound, not to mention sight. The moment when her serious face shifted to one of joy or mirth always made Clarke's heart pound harder. She wanted to kiss Lexa-- so fucking badly. 

"Clarke, I don't think I should eat one."

"Why not?" Clarke pouted, her coughing under control. 

"Well," Lexa smirked and reached her hand toward Clarke. For a second Clarke thought she was going to cup her face, but instead two soft fingers plucked a small piece of pastry from her cheek, and she burned in mortification. She should move out. Living with her crush was causing her body stress. "I just don't think I'll like it."

"Why not?" Clarke insisted. "It's small, it's pretty and you can't tell me it doesn't smell good?"

"It smells very good...but it's called a mincemeat pie...I just..."

"I called it a mince pie!" Clarke insisted. 

"Short for mincemeat."

"Yolo your life!"

"Yolo?" Lexa smirked.

"Life is short!" Clarke insisted. 

"Carpe diem?"

"If you want to get fancy and Latin about it, yes!"   
"I always get fancy," Lexa teased.

"Then eat a fancy lil pie! Seize the day and give your tastebuds a treat," Clarke insisted and Lexa stared at her. For a moment they held each others gaze and Clarke became convinced, confident even, that Lexa felt the same way about her, because there was an intensity, a feeling, like Lexa might just seize the day and kiss her. 

"Fine," Lexa grabbed a pie, gaze still locked on Clarke's, and plopped the thing into her mouth whole, beginning to chew in the graceful way she did everything. "Oh wow," she mumbled through the mouthful, distinctly less graceful when a crumb escaped and landed on her shirt. Clarke just smirked and plucked it off. "It's good," her eyes were wide as she swallowed and immediately grabbed another. "Really good," she began as she stuffed the second in her mouth. 

"Told you," Clarke grinned. Lexa was so adorable. So fucking adorable. "But that's your limit." She watched the girls face fall.

"Why?" she pouted and wow! 

Clarke swallowed and croaked her response, "Because they are for tree decorators."

"WHAT?" Lexa stiffened indignantly. "That's blackmail."

"It's a festive treat for those that partake in festivities!"

"Maybe I'll feel more festive if I eat more festive treats. Did you ever think of that?"

"Two should suffice," Clarke shrugged and grabbed the tray of pies and headed to the living room. 

"You're mean," Lexa grumbled following her. 

"You just sit and read your book," Clarke sat on the couch and picked up the lights for untangling after popping another pie in her mouth. Lexa stood and watched her, before huffily sitting in the small space that Clarke had left her and picking up her book. Clarke smirked. 

"You're so mean."

"You can move out if you want," Clarke said easily and Lexa's head snapped to hers.

"Do you want me to move out?" she asked and Clarke hesitated because in a way, she did because she desperately wanted her. On the other hand she adored everything about living with Lexa. They couldn't be more different in their approach to home management, and yet somehow, it worked. Lexa always remembered the details like putting out the garbage, mailing in the rent checks, picking up lightbulbs and toilet paper, while Clarke got food. When Lexa realized that Clarke loathed cleaning and would grumpily vacuum or do bedsheets, she found a reasonable cleaner and talked Clarke into sharing the cost. Clarke babbled and Lexa listened, and then they'd switch. Their taste in music, movies and books differed and yet, somehow they found a common ground and their worlds expanded to include the taste of the other, to meld together. Clarke took up running, even though she skipped out five miles into Lexa's ten mile run. Lexa would meet her for a yoga class even though she'd deemed anything mediative a waste of time. At first, they'd disagreed on every single place to eat-- Clarke liked fun, quick, easy places and Lexa preferred the finer things; yet somehow, they had decided to switch it up and both enjoyed each other's preferences. They should have been a disaster as roommates and yet, living with Lexa had been the best thing to ever happen to her. "Okay," Lexa's eyes had actually gotten glassy at Clarke's silence in response to her question.

"What?" Clarke blinked. 

"I know it was a joke. What you initially said, but you know I can move out," Lexa looked down and then prepared to stand. Clarke caught her hand and held it tightly.

"Lex, you're the best roommate I've ever had," she rushed, "of course I don't want you to move out...but..." she hesitated. 

"But?" Lexa waited and Clarke tried to think about how to put it into words that wouldn't damage things or change things. Of course, she wanted change, she finally admitted to herself, and yet dating while living together was U-hauling at its best. Except that in a way, they'd been dating for months. Or maybe Lexa saw their interactions and flirtation as purely platonic. She could send Lexa out of her home with the intention to pull her into her bed, and end up with nothing.

"No buts," she croaked. "I love living with you."

"Right," Lexa nodded, clearly unsettled and confused. 

"Shall we put on a movie? We can watch while I decorate?"

"Actually, I promised I'd call Anya," Lexa's chin raised, something she did when she was upset or put out. Clarke wasn't sure which she was but nodded and watched her leave the living room. 

***

"What's that smell?" Lexa trailed through the apartment and Clarke looked up at her from where she was snuggled on the couch under a blanket. She'd abandoned the lights after failing to untangle them. The truth was that it just wasn't fun decorating by herself. She'd wanted to do it with Lexa, for them to get tipsy on gluwien together, eat mince pies, decorate the tree and maybe share a kiss under the mistletoe. She hadn't planned it exactly and yet her mind clearly had because she was dejected, disappointed and feeling despondent about the whole festive season. Instead of kisses, she'd upset her roommate who now thought she didn't want to live together.

"It's gluwein," she announced hoping the sniffle was kept from her voice.

"It smells good but I've never heard of gluwein," Lexa stood hesitantly in front of her. 

"Some people call it mulled wine. It's just hot red wine with orange juice and spices. Help yourself, it's in the pan on the stove."

"Do I need to 'make festive' to have some?" Lexa went for the tease but it fell flat when Clarke shook her head.

"I've given up. I'll tidy it all away tomorrow."

"You've given up?" Lexa stared at her like she'd grown two heads. "But you were so excited!"

What was Clarke supposed to say? If she told Lexa that it was no fun on her own then she was applying pressure, but it was the truth. It wasn't fun by herself, especially with the anti-Christmas Lexa sitting in the corner. 

"I'm just not feeling it and besides, I can't get the lights untangled."

"Oh," Lexa frowned.

"Help yourself to the wine - it's really, really good," Clarke raised a cup. 

"Clarke..." Lexa stood in front of her, still hesitant.

"Lexa?"

"Anya says I can move in with her, until I find somewhere. If that's what you want?"

"You think I want you to move in with your ex-girlfriend?" Clarke slumped, feeling even more dejected if that were possible. 

"Well, there was a 'but' in there and you didn't expand on it," Lexa shrugged.

"I don't want you to move out. I love living with you," Clarke told her earnestly but with unmistakable dejection. 

"We can talk about it more," Lexa gave a weak smile. Lexa was a patient person, probably because she was used to dealing with difficult people-- she was in her second year of her pediatrics residency and while she was always professional, she did tell Clarke many a funny story about the diplomacy needed to deal with the simplest of issues with her patients. It was weird thinking of Lexa with kids. On the surface, the stoic brunette did not seem like someone who would be remotely good with kids. She had a sense of humor, but it was quirky and hard to find sometimes, and she always looked serious. Except for when she didn't. Clarke loved the multifaceted person that Lexa was. Loved it. Every layer, every persona, every little element that made Lexa the most intriguing person she'd ever met. A person she never stopped learning about. 

"I don't want you to move out," she reiterated with force and Lexa blinked. 

"You had a 'but' though," Lexa shifted awkwardly.

"So do you, Lexa, and it's beautifully toned," she gave into her compulsion to tease and get rid of the tension.

"Haha, you know what I mean," Lexa's mouth twisted a little in amusement but she was still serious.

"I do want to continue living with you," Clarke began and paused, contemplating the ramifications of utter honesty, " _but_ , I underestimated how much your anti-Croosmoose stance would affect me," she gave an over-enunciated sniff and this time Lexa gave her a big smile.

"I warned you," Lexa rolled her eyes.

"You said you don't do the festive thing, not that you'd completely ignore me as I did it," Clarke slurped her wine.

"I wasn't ignoring you!" Lexa defended sitting beside her and nudging her shoulder against Clarke's.

"You didn't even offer to untangle the lights!" Clarke continued in her dramatic portrayal of dismay and Lexa actually giggled.

"Because I can imagine nothing worse than sitting there, untangling lights!"

"But we could have done it _together_ ," Clarke gripped her arm, "and then you'd have felt a sense of pride and accomplishment when we plunged the cord into the socket and see the tree light up!"

"Clarke, I'm going to be at the hospital for upwards of eighty hours next week-- what do I care for a sense of pride and accomplishment?" Lexa teased but Clarke looked at her and acknowledged how tired Lexa looked, and how she was selfishly pushing her own agenda when maybe her friend just wanted to curl up and read on her sacred day off. 

"Surely working gives you a sense of pride and accomplishment?"

"Sometimes," Lexa admitted,"Right now, it just gives me exhaustion and a loss of ability to function." 

"Aw babe," Clarke melted and curled into Lexa's side. "Here," she shoved her warm, spiced wine at Lexa. "Try it! If you like it, I'll get you a glass to go with the mince pies I'm warming up."

"Really?" Lexa looked adorably doubtful.

"Really," Clarke confirmed and watched Lexa take a sip.

"Oh my god... wow," she hummed her appreciation.

"So apparently your taste buds are more festive than you knew," Clarke teased, scrambling from the couch to fetch Lexa wine and mince pies. 

"Apparently," Lexa admitted sheepishly. Clarke poured wine and grabbed the pies from the oven before returning to the living room, where she switched on the gas fire and pulled out her iPad to play some cheesy tunes. 

"Really?" Lexa responded to the music with a quirked eyebrow and Clarke returned with a nonchalant little shrug. So what if the tree was bare, if her mistletoe fantasies had amounted to nothing, if the lights were a tangled heap and the decorations still boxed? Lexa was cocooned under a blanket on the couch, reaching for a mince pie, warm wine in hand, and she was Clarke's for the afternoon and evening. Clarke didn't need any of the other stuff. Well, maybe she needed the mistletoe because Lexa was so fucking adorable. But she'd rather have Lexa as a friend and roommate than no Lexa at all. 

"You don't have to be festive but I want to be," Clarke crawled under the blanket.

"Why do you like it all?"

"You mean Christmas?" Clarke clarified.

Lexa nodded, "I mean you hate Valentines day-- you call it commercialism at its worst. How is Christmas any different? You said you aren't religious?"

"I'm not," Clarke shook her head. "And I do hate Valentine's Day. When I have a special girl or guy in my life, I don't want to be romantic that one day of the year. It's like a Get Out of Jail Free card-- be shit and forgetful the rest of the year so long as you remember this one day. And oh my god, if you don't see your significant other on that day, then you're clearly doomed, or should be depressed because seeing them on that day is so much more important than at any other time. Valentine's Day is the last day of the year I want to celebrate with the person I adore. I want to celebrate that every day."

"You see Valentine's Day I get," Lexa had just a small hint of a grin and it frustrated Clarke.

"What? You'll do cheesy, sappy, romantic bullshit but not festive fun? That makes no sense, Lexa!"

"Well, I do agree that you ought to make your significant other feel special all the time, but think about someone like me... I work eighty hours a week, and when I'm not working, I'm basically trying to get my life to manage itself and pretending that I'm not so exhausted that I want to cry. Valentine's Day is everywhere, so I can pick up something that tells the girl I love how much I love her."

"But that's lame, Lexa! If you're in the hospital store, buy her the Aero she loves so much and you can do that any day of the year."

"You love Aero's," Lexa pointed out with a small smile, gaze locked on Clarke's. 

Clarke faltered, "It was an example. I mean whatever chocolate she likes."

"I do buy you Aero's," Lexa's eyes were so intense that Clarke found herself looking anywhere but in those green eyes.

"I know..." she mumbled.

"But not too many because then you complain about being unhealthy..."

"And you bring me kale salads from the cafeteria instead," Clarke swallowed, wondering if Lexa were hinting or digressing.

"Which you say you love. You lil kale nut."

"I do," she finally looked up and Lexa was so close, and there was an intensity in her expression that made everything inside of Clarke swoop and slide around.

"Clarke..." Lexa reached out a hand and it tucked a stray blond wave behind her ear. Clarke's heart was pounding so loudly that she was certain Lexa would hear it beating along to the cheesy Christmas music she'd put on. Lexa's eyes fell to her lips and her thumb brushed along her cheek and Clarke freaked out.

"Lights were never a problem when Raven lived here," her voice crackled and Lexa abruptly pulled her hand back and grabbed a mince pie instead. 

"They weren't?"

"Raven's Christmas trees were better than professionally-done trees. She always went overboard."

"She'll be back soon, right?" Lexa pulled back and shifted awkwardly so there was a little more space between them.

"Yup," Clarke smiled. "And moving in with her boyfriend. So no, she won't be wanting her old room back."

"So why? Why the love of Christmas?"

"You mean Croosmoose?" Clarke murmured softly and Lexa nodded. "I guess my parents always made a fuss of Christmas. My mom didn't ever get it off, so it's not like the day really mattered. We'd celebrate on whatever day she had off. My dad would cook lasagne because it was our favorite meal and we didn't care for convention. What better reason to eat our favorite meal? We all got stockings and they were a bizarre assortment of something you really wanted, nuts, tangerines and things you needed like underwear and toothbrushes. I guess because they were both so busy, they made sure we went overboard on the decoration, on the food, on all of that memory bank stuff, because when I see a decorated tree or smell mince pies or mulled wine, I just feel so nostalgic. And it was hard to celebrate it after my dad died, but when we did, instead of making me miss him more, it actually made me feel closer to him. It brought back memories and feelings and I just...I guess I loved it."

"Yeah?" Lexa's voice was thick.

"Yeah. It was hard because he died around Christmas and I think my mom and I were scared to do anything lest we cause ourselves distress, but it actually helped us heal."

"Aden died when I was sixteen. He was thirteen and he had cancer. It was nearer to Thanksgiving than to Christmas, but that was it for holidays. He was the kid that loved to celebrate, asking us every weekend when we could set up the tree, or how big the turkey was going to be, all of that. My parents stopped celebrating, said it was too painful to do it without him, and I agreed because I loved my brother and missed him. Sure, he was annoying and frustrating, but he was mine to be annoyed and frustrated with. And we were a team, you know?"

"Yeah," Clarke slid her hand into Lexa's as she thought about how she and her dad would gang up to sway her mom into their way of thinking. "We're all different. I'm sorry I pushed the festive agenda."

"Yeah, people worry about the gay agenda, but no one talks about the festive agenda, shoving mince pies, spiced wine and ornaments on you," Lexa smiled. 

"Thank you for telling me about Aden."

"Thank you for telling me about your dad."

"I don't really talk about my dad much."

"I don't talk about Aden at all."

"I sometimes think it would feel better if I talked about him more..."

"And yet I can't seem to do it," Lexa finished and they looked at each other for a moment. 

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry, Lexa," Clarke let her head fall onto Lexa's shoulder. "I was pushy and I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Our Christmases were apparently very different from yours."

"Yeah?"

"Well, we certainly didn't eat _lasagne_ ," Lexa rolled her eyes.

"You did the turkey thing?"

"Yeah, it was a traditional meal."

"Lasagne was traditional for us. Followed by ice cream sundaes."

"Your family is weird," Lexa laughed softly. "You're weird," Lexa pressed her head to Clarke's, and Clarke relished being weird because Lexa made it seem like the best thing ever.

"You haven't even tried the traditional Christmas lasagne," Clarke teased and Lexa laughed. 

"No, I haven't. I do love lasagne, you know?"

"Well, maybe I can make it, as we're both here for Christmas? My mom will be here but you like her and she likes you."

"Your mom is an interesting woman."

"Who hates that I didn't do medicine and is thrilled my roommate does!"

"That she is," Lexa smirked. 

"Gotta pee," Clarke announced, feeling the alcohol affect her as she pressed a spontaneous kiss to Lexa's cheek. She smirked at the red that flooded the cheek and skipped off to the bathroom. When she returned she frowned because Lexa was stood up and tucking her phone in her back pocket. Clarke came to an abrupt halt, knowing all the signs of Lexa leaving by now. "You're going out?" she was surprised by the burn of tears.

"Anya asked me to run her over to Walmart."

"Oh," burning hot jealousy filled her stomach. Anya. Always Anya needing this and Anya needing that. "I thought Anya had a car?" she asked pointedly, the words stiff.

"She does. It's being serviced and apparently she has to get something and she has to get it today. Or so she insists," Lexa headed to the door and pulled on her coat, tugged on a beanie and a scarf, and dug into her coat pockets for gloves. She looked so fucking sexy, so perfect, and she was off to hang out with her ex-girlfriend, jumping to her every whim. Clarke hated Anya. 

"Oh," Clarke swayed on the spot. "Well, have fun. I guess I'll go shower."

"Two in one day? Wow, Clarke!" Lexa teased but it was awkward and fell flat.

"Well, then I can just get up early and head into work early. I wasn't going to meet up with Octavia tomorrow night but maybe I will," Clarke couldn't help but respond in monotone. "Stay safe on the roads."

"We can watch a movie later? Drink some more wine?"   
"Yeah, lucky for Anya, you only had a sip," Clarke couldn't help how cold her voice sounded.

"Yeah, I guess," Lexa nodded. "I won't be long."

"You don't answer to me," Clarke stared at the pathetic fake tree, the tangled lights, the abandoned plate of pies and the nearly full cup of mulled wine and felt an unreasonable hurt and rejection. "See you," she turned around and headed back to her room and into her bathroom and then burst into tears. 

***

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Clarke knew it was Lexa. She always knocked in triplets like that, but she didn't feel like seeing Lexa. She was cocooned in her covers watching the Gilmore Girls and feeling sad. Really fucking sad.    
_Bang. Bang. Bang._

"Clarke?"

"I'm sleeping."

"Can I come in?"

"No, I'm sleeping."

"Please, Clarke?"

"Fine," she huffed and heard, rather than saw, the door open and Lexa enter the room. 

"You're burritoed," Lexa stated.

"I got sad."

"Why?"

"I just did," Clarke mumbled and the bed dipped as Lexa sat on it.

"Because I went out?" Lexa asked softly and Clarke didn't want to answer so she just shrugged. "I just had to do something."

"Help Anya, I know. Ex-girlfriends are extremely important, gotta stay on their good side."

"She's also a friend," Lexa reminded her patiently. 

"Did she get what she wanted?" Clarke peered out of her covers at Lexa's pretty face and almost groaned in frustration. She wanted to reach her hand out and tug her into her nest, to pull her face to hers and kiss her senseless. To rip off Lexa's clothes and have her naked against her. 

"We had a successful trip."

"Took you long enough," Clarke mumbled, retreating back under her covers. 

"I've been back a while," Lexa smiled, unaffected by her grumpiness. 

"I was sleeping," Clarke pointedly shut her eyes.

"You want to sleep or come out and see your surprise?" Lexa slid her hand under the covers and ran it over Clarke's bare arm. It was an oddly intimate move but Clarke wanted it so much. 

"A surprise?" she pouted a little but peered back out at her friend.

"Yes, for you!" Lexa trailed her hand all the way down her arm until her hand was sliding into Clarke's. "Come on," she tugged. 

"Fine," Clarke grumbled, sliding from amidst her covers, and shoving her feet into the ridiculous unicorn slippers that Octavia had given her and she'd been attempting to wear out ever since. She tugged her tank down over her flannel bottoms and followed Lexa. "We're holding hands now?" she asked, pointedly squeezing Lexa's beautiful, skilled hand. 

"Shut up," Lexa merely looked over her shoulder with an eye roll and a hand squeeze in return. 

"Because I don't mind. You have nice hands."

"I have skilled hands," Lexa stated and Clarke thought she was referring to her doctoring until Lexa looked over her shoulder and gave her a naughty wink. She giggled, despite her best efforts to remain aloof, because flirty Lexa was one of her favorite Lexa's. 

"So you say," Clarke gave a small lift of her shoulders and an arch of her eyebrows to indicate skepticism. 

"If you don't believe me I could always..." Lexa turned and fixed her with a smoldering look and a burst of adrenaline flooded Clarke's system as her body cheered for whatever Lexa might be offering, "give you a back massage..." she finished and grinned cheekily, but Clarke merely nodded. 

"Yes," she agreed. "You can do that." Surprise flashed across Lexa's eyes and she swallowed.

"Sure," she squeezed the hand she was holding and Clarke swayed towards her. 

"I'm sorry I went out to help Anya," Lexa stopped walking and they stood in the hall. 

"It's okay," Clarke lied. It should have been okay and yet it had felt the opposite. 

"No, it really wasn't. You made mince pies, or little pieces of ecstasy as I now think of them, and delicious warm wine with spices in it, and you were so excited about decorating."

"Yeah, but the holidays are my thing, not yours," Clarke felt an involuntary pout on her lips and tried to smile. It was weak. 

"Clarke," Lexa sucked in a breath and then released it, the silence stretching for so long that Clarke wondered whether the girl intended to say more than her name. 

"Lexa," she teased in return softly. 

"When I was a kid... before Aden died, we always had a real tree. The smell of them, it's so emotive for me. The nostalgia can be kinda overwhelming."

"I always wanted a real tree but my mom hated the needles."

"I didn't go help Anya with anything," Lexa admitted.

"Oh," Clarke deflated at the change in topic. Anya again. "Are you back together?"

"No, Clarke," Lexa smiled softly. "I went down to the Christmas tree lot on Broadway. I stood in it like some crazy person just smelling the trees."

"Why?" Clarke frowned.

"Because I want to make you happy. I can't change who I am but I always want to make you happy and I think it was me that made you sad today."

"Why does it matter? I mean we're just roommates," her voice cracked a little, probably because that felt like a lie. 

"Maybe," Lexa seemed just as uncertain. "But I never wanted to make Lincoln happy like I want to make you happy."

"Why do you want to make me happy?" Clarke stared at Lexa who gave a self-deprecating laugh, soft and pretty.

"Because you make me happy," she answered and Clarke couldn't help but feel disappointed. "And because I love it when you smile. Because I hated draining you of enthusiasm. Because you mean a lot to me."

"I do?" Clarke edged closer.

"You do."

"Why did you leave to go stand in the Christmas tree lot on Broadway?"

"Because I wanted to get you a real Christmas tree but I didn't want to feel sad."

"Did you feel sad?" Clarke's brow pursed and Lexa shook her head. "Did you get a real Christmas tree?" Lexa nodded and Clarke flung her arms around the girl and held her tight. 

"I'm sorry I ruined your fun," Lexa mumbled into her neck and Clarke laughed. 

"Honestly, the challenge was kinda fun at first. Your face at the thought of a mince pie versus your face when eating one, will forever be one of my favorite things. I don't want to force you into festivity. I just like doing things with you...better than anyone else," she admitted. 

"Clarke," Lexa said her name again but this time there was something behind it, an extra intensity, a need. 

"Are you ever gonna kiss me?" Clarke quirked an eyebrow, going for flirty to belie the rapid pounding of her heart.

"I might. You ever gonna kiss me?" Lexa gave her a look and Clarke felt how much she wanted her, all the way down to her toes. 

"I might," she echoed.

"I got you a tree," Lexa reminded her.

"The odds are increasing," Clarke smirked.

"It's really pretty."

"Keep talking," she squeezed Lexa's soft hand.

"I put the fire on, got mince pies, and warmed up your wine," Lexa spoke seriously, as if she believed she actually had some convincing to do. It was laughable considering how much Clarke wanted to kiss her. 

"Anything else?"

"I untangled the lights," Lexa admitted and Clarke felt her heart swell and burst as she took a step and pressed her body as close as possible to Lexa's and kissed her. It was a messy kiss. She caught Lexa on the corner of the mouth and felt her jump as though she wasn't expecting a kiss she was so obviously courting. For a second, she rested her lips on the corner of Lexa's mouth but then she shifted and pressed their lips together properly and kissed her, sighing in relief when Lexa kissed her back and feeling a flood of happiness when firm hands gripped at her tank and she was tugged closer. "This is a bad idea," Lexa mumbled into the kiss but kissed her harder.

"It is?"

"I've tried," Lexa pushed her against the wall and pressed her face into the hollow of her neck, sniffing before she kissed it, making Clarke moan softly.

"Tried what?"

"To resist you, to just be friends."

"I don't want to be just friends."

"But we live together."

"Meh," Clarke pushed her tongue into Lexa's mouth and groaned when the girl fell against her. 

"Meh?" Lexa attempted.

"I don't care," Clarke pushed her away just slightly, "Please don't resist me."

"Yeah, I gave up on that," Lexa agreed. "Resistance is futile."

"And don't you forget it," Clarke gave her a lazy smile and tugged her closer. "Will you show me the tree?"

"I'm going to help you decorate the tree."

"Yeah?" Clarke pressed her face into Lexa's neck and attempted to inhale her. 

"Yeah."

"Just to make me happy?"

"No. I love doing things with you... Clarke, I'm into you. I adore you."

"I'm into you and I adore you too."

"I want to take you out on a date."

"Well take me into the living room? It can be our first."

"Yeah?"

"Lex, you're so coming home with me, so it had better be."

"Fuck," Lexa hummed, leg sliding between Clarke's.

"Festive fun, then fuck."

"So long as the fuck's not festive," Lexa grinned, hands trailing over Clarke's waist and higher.

"No festive fucking?" Clarke pouted playfully, moaning softly when Lexa's thumbs brushed over her boobs.

"Define festive fucking," Lexa smiled into a kiss she pressed to her mouth.

"Fucking in front of the fire, frolicking with festive festooning," she offered.

"Festive festooning?" Lexa gave her a look.

"A Santa hat on your head," she clarified and Lexa giggled.

"That I might consider."

"But lets have our date first," Clarke gestured to the living room.

"Yeah," Lexa nodded, taking her hand and leading her into the living room. "We have a tree to decorate."

"You know, decorating is overrated," Clarke shot a side eyed look at Lexa.

"What?" Lexa's mouth turned into a pout.

"Yeah," Clarke squeezed her hand. "Do you know what's far more festive?"

"What?" Lexa's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Kissing."

"Clarke, I adore you, but in what world is kissing festive?"

"Lexa, babe, use your imagination - we just gotta kiss under mistletoe!"

"Do we have mistletoe?" Lexa asked seriously and Clarke nodded. "Lets do that first then!"

"You're the best," Clarke giggled as they fell onto the comfy couch, the room warm from the fire, and smelling delicious. "And the tree is beautiful," she straddled Lexa's lap and pressed her cheek to warm brown hair, as she swallowed back a lump in her throat at the tree in the corner, twinkling with lights. 

"I'd rather look at you," Lexa whispered, and though it was cheesy, it was said so sincerely that Clarke kissed her, and kissed her again. 

"Thank you."

"Any time," Lexa's hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans and for a few long moments they stared at one another. Then Clarke leaned into one of her boxes, nearly losing her balance and head butting the coffee table in the process. Lexa helped her stay safe and once she was upright she was clutching mistletoe. 

"Festive kissing," Clarke murmured proudly and when Lexa giggled she kissed her. And when she kissed her she realized she planned to keep on kissing her, for as long as Lexa would allow.


End file.
